


Show Yourself

by Seluvia



Category: Be More Chill - Iconis/Tracz
Genre: Alternate Universe - Fantasy, Feeding, Incubus Squip, M/M, Masturbation, The Fantasy AU no one asked for, Voyeurism, Werewolf Jeremy, Witch Michael, tagged for future relationships
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-06
Updated: 2020-02-06
Packaged: 2021-02-28 06:53:40
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,422
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22579654
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Seluvia/pseuds/Seluvia
Summary: The thrilling adventures of young witch Michael and his monster boyfriends.
Relationships: Jeremy Heere's Squip/Michael Mell, Jeremy Heere/Jeremy Heere's Squip, Jeremy Heere/Michael Mell
Comments: 19
Kudos: 72





	Show Yourself

**Author's Note:**

> Much thanks to watermellions, Ruscankuu, and the lovely peeps on my server for helping me knock out the specifics of this AU! You guys are the real MVPs!!

Of all the clubs downtown, the most famous for being friendly to humans and nonhumans alike is s8Ed. Michael isn’t sure what kind of pretentious dickhead decided to spell it like that instead of just calling it Sated like a normal, non-dickhead person, but the club looks clean and welcoming from the outside and the line is moving quickly, so Michael can’t complain. Well, he _can_. But he’ll reserve judgement for now.

He’s disguised both his scent and energy signature with a relatively simple spell. Witches aren’t exactly the most popular race around, and Michael is too young by the standards of his people to even be here right now. If he doesn’t see some action soon, though, he’s going to go insane. Rules and regulations can take a fucking hike. Just for tonight. One little night can’t hurt. He’ll be back before any of the elders notice his absence, and he’s already promised himself that one night of adventure will be enough to tide him over for the next decade. Michael just wants to know what it’s like, out here, away from the watchful eyes and prying spells of his coven. Out of the safe, but dull pocket realm he spends his days in.

Michael gets up to the front of the line, and the ogre watching the door gives him a slow once-over, nostrils flaring in his wide nose. Michael gives the guy his I.D. and waits. Already small eyes narrow further at the deliberate neutrality of Michael’s scent, but Michael can’t be the first person that’s come through here tonight with no discernible smell of human or creature. The 8-foot, hulking ogre watches him a moment longer, and Michael fights the urge to squirm in his ass-hugging short shorts, wondering if maybe he’d misjudged the vibe of the club and dressed inappropriately.

“Go on in,” the ogre says in a nearly subsonic rumble that Michael feels more than hears, returning his I.D. “Don’t cause no trouble.” How the ogre can talk around those protruding tusks in his mouth is a mystery to Michael, but that’s exactly why he’s here. To experience different races, and see firsthand what he’s only read about in books until now.

Michael hurries past the bouncer and into the club, and it’s like he’s swallowed by a wave of sound and light, the smell of sweat and lust and cheap perfume settling blanketlike over everything. It’s fantastic. Michael notes immediately that he fits right in with his combat boots and lacy black tights over frankly obscene shorts, a short sleeved red crop top over teasing black mesh that reveals more of his belly than it hides. He isn’t even the only man in the place dressed like that.

He moves through the crowd, and is surprised by how diverse it is. He’d been expecting mostly humans, but the crowd is full of vampires, several types of weres, glittering, hypnotically beautiful fae, and other witches, as well as several other races that he can’t immediately identify. Michael stays far away from the witches on his way to the bar. It would be a real kick in the teeth to get caught this early, before he has time to enjoy himself.

“Evening,” says a smooth, deep voice near Michael’s ear as he’s trying to flag down the bartender. Michael turns to find a man standing beside him, a polite smile on his face. He’s model-handsome, with a straight nose, strong jaw, and cheekbones so sharp that they seem like a threat. His features would be rugged without the inviting plushness of his lips softening his face into something more heartthrob than heroic. Long hair falls past his shoulders in an inky black spill, some of the silky strands obscuring Michael’s view of the guy’s chest through the four or five open buttons on his shirt.

“Can I help you?” Michael says with as much false bravado as he can muster. This isn’t his first time out, he tries to project, though he’s really never been out of sight of his elders. If he acts like a regular visitor to the human realm, maybe he’ll seem like one.

The man’s smile widens, the skin around his eyes crinkling charmingly. The eyes give him away as a nonhuman more than anything, practically glowing unnatural blue in the low light of the club. “Perhaps I can help you,” he says in that same neutral, polite tone. “Why don’t you tell me what you are, and why you’re stealthing in my club? I keep a safe place, there should be no reason for you to hide here.”

The bottom drops out of Michael’s stomach, eyes going wide. Fuck, that was quick. How did this guy clock him so fast? And what, he’s the boss around here? Could Michael’s luck possibly get worse? “I’m not sure what you mean,” Michael says breezily, turning back toward the bar. “I heard this place was safe for humans, so I came.”

The man laughs beside him, a warm, inviting sound that Michael immediately wants to hear again. He’s got to be fae. Vampire maybe. One of the seductive races.

“I’m not certain exactly what you are, but I am quite sure you’re not human,” the man says, amused. “Not only that, but it’s clear this is your first time trying to hide yourself. You went too far in making your scent and energy neutral. You smell, quite obnoxiously, of nothing, and your energy signature is blank. It’s extremely noticeable.”

Michael curses internally and looks back at the guy. “Maybe I’m just like that.”

“Even the most average human isn’t like that. So what are you? Fae? Celestial? Witch?” The man’s perfectly sculpted eyebrows shoot up. “Ah, a witch. I see.”

“Okay, how the fuck did you do that?” Michael demands, giving up the pretense.

“I could feel that your heart skipped a beat when I said witch. Dead giveaway. I’m not above using my abilities in conversations like this one, though some might find it rude to extend my senses in such a way.” He leans against the bar, watching Michael closely. “So, witch. You’re new to this. I’m betting you’re in your first life cycle. Which means, you shouldn’t be here. Why shouldn’t I turn you in to your brethren over there?” He flicks his glowing blue gaze over to the small cluster of witches that has naturally gravitated together, talking animatedly. Michael doesn’t recognize any of them, but witches from a different coven would still overprotect a young witch, and make sure Michael went straight home, ruining his one, precious night out. “You’re bringing me nothing but trouble, here, and the smart thing to do would be to stop you right now.”

“Please don’t,” Michael pleads in an urgent whisper. “I did so much to be here tonight, you don’t even know. I can’t leave yet.”

The guy sighs tiredly, leaning back and resting his elbows on the bar. Michael’s eyes are drawn to his forearms, bared by his rolled up sleeves. The guy has tattoos covering every inch of skin Michael can see on his arms, disappearing into his sleeves. It’s a little hard to see with the club’s lighting, but the guy has a colorful galaxy swirling over his arms in curls of blue and purple, geometric circles and lines laid over the whole picture and making Michael think of the alchemic symbols he’s studied over the years. He’s so caught up in the design that it takes him a moment to realize…the stars are _glowing_ , they’re changing, winking and twinkling as Michael watches.

“You’re not human either,” Michael accuses. “Why are you giving me such a hard time?”

“I’m already under plenty of scrutiny from both sides of the fence,” the guy explains. “I don’t need the additional bullshit of an unescorted witch getting hurt in my club.”

Michael searches his mind, reviewing what he knows about nonhumans that aren’t trusted by humans or embraced by nonhumans. “Are you fae? Incubus, maybe?”

The guy smiles a little. “An incubus, yes. They do teach you well in the coven, don’t they.” He lazily offers Michael his hand, as if he wouldn’t be surprised if Michael refused the touch. “You may call me Squip.”

Michael shakes Squip’s hand and watches Squip’s smile deepen with surprised pleasure. “You can call me Michael.” Too many humans had been caught by fae, not knowing that ‘giving’ someone your name was the oldest trap in the book. No one with half a brain ever offered anyone their name, no matter how harmless they seemed. ‘You can call me’ and ‘I am known as’ are the smartest phrases in the English language, at least for anyone not trying to get spirited away.

Michael doesn’t feel any draw on his energy as he touches Squip. He really must be on his best behavior. Michael knows incubi have a hard time finding partners these days, most of them on the verge of starvation at all times. “Are you hungry?” Michael asks, looking into Squip’s electric cobalt eyes.

Squip pulls his hand away, smile vanishing. “I’m not sure how it concerns you if I am.”

“I’ll feed you, if you don’t blow my cover. I’ll feed you right now.” Michael swallows nervously, Squip’s gaze suddenly sharp and predatory. “You’ve got to be starving, right? Is there somewhere we can go?”

“Do you have any idea what you’re doing? What you’re risking? I could kill you.”

Michael laughs at that. “Oh, I assure you, you could not. And if anything I read about incubi these days holds true, I’d wager you can’t really afford to turn me down. So. I’ll feed you, and you let me stay. You can feed without touching me, right?”

Squip glances around, watching the crowd for a moment. Finally, he nods. “I can. And you’re right. I can’t afford to say no. But,” Squip looks at Michael with a frown, “If you cause even a lick of trouble, I’ll turn you in so fast your head will spin.”

“Deal!”

“Follow me.” Squip leads the way through the crowd, giving the witches a wide berth as he moves toward the back of the club. At the back of the club there’s a door, and Squip punches a code into a keypad there, then leads Michael inside. It’s quiet in the hallway they enter the second the door swings shut. At the end of the hall is a small office, and Squip waves Michael in and then locks the door behind him, leaving them together in privacy and silence.

Michael looks around. “So this is your office, huh? Not what I expected.” It’s small and sparsely furnished, a small black couch along one wall, a desk and chair against the other, with the world’s oldest computer hooked up on it. There’s a couple plants and a painting bringing the only color to the room, and Michael can’t tell if the plants are fake, but he wouldn’t be surprised if they were.

“I don’t need much. Just somewhere quiet to keep the books.” Squip glances at him and tips his head toward the couch, a lock of his hair falling over his eye in a move that would have been flirty if Michael thought he’d actually done it on purpose. “Why don’t you have a seat.”

“Where will you be?” Michael sits down on the couch, surprised that it’s much softer than it looks.

“Here.” Squip pulls out his desk chair and wheels it closer to the couch, keeping several feet between them. “I won’t touch you, don’t worry. I won’t do anything you don’t want me to do. I need you to understand that.”

“I know. I wouldn’t have come back here if I thought you were going to hurt me. Or if I thought you could.” Michael smiles gently.

“Some people think my kind--”

“Some people are stupid. You know that. I know that. Don’t worry too much.” He leans back, getting comfortable on the couch. “Just tell me what I need to do.”

He can _hear_ Squip swallow, like his mouth is watering and he’s trying his best to hide it. When he speaks, his voice is rough. “Touch yourself, please. I need lust and pleasure from you.”

“Well, fuck. I’m kinda…I’m nervous, man. I’m not sure if I can get it up, I’ll be honest. I expected to come back here, jerk you off, and be on my way in five minutes tops.”

“Feeding has very little to do with my pleasure,” Squip corrects. “Or, it could be said, my pleasure is born of yours. I can’t eat my own lust, after all. May I help you find the mood?” The glow of Squip’s eyes has only gotten more intense, the color of his iris beginning to bleed outward and swallow the whites of his eyes.

“I thought you said you wouldn’t touch me?”

“I don’t need to. May I help?”

Michael isn’t sure exactly what that means, but Squip is still sitting peacefully in his chair some feet away. It doesn’t seem like much of a risk. “Yeah, okay. Go for it. I’m ready to get this going, and I’m sure you are, too.”

Squip clears his throat. “Yes. Well. I’ll begin, with your consent.”

“Go ahead,” Michael urges again, deliberately slowing his breathing in an attempt to control his nerves. He waits, wondering what it’s going to feel like when Squip feeds, if he’ll even feel anything at all. None of this is in any of his books. He’s completely out of his element now.

And then sensation warms his body like a thousand feathers stroking every inch of him, throbbing tingles echoing between every erogenous zone he’s got, leaving him flushed and panting and very, very hard. Another wave goes through him, and Michael groans at the fluttery ache of excitement in his belly, the sudden awareness of the way his nipples brush his shirt, the strain of his dick in his shorts and the unwelcome emptiness inside of him. He feels like he’s been teasing himself for hours, and he’s breathless with how much he _wants_.

“Fuck, people would pay you to do this,” Michael says with a shaky laugh, carefully opening his too-tight shorts and easing his cock out. Even touching himself just that long feels incredibly good.

“Whenever you’re ready.” Squip’s hands are folded calmly in his lap, but his eyes are all hunger.

“You just need me to…?” Michael mimes jacking off. “Nothing special?” When Squip nods, Michael takes himself in hand and gives himself one long, blissful stroke. “Holy shit,” he breathes, the weirdness of the situation melting away. It’s like there’s a thread connecting his cock to his nipples and his lips and the sides of his neck and the empty places inside him, all of his sensitive places tingling pleasurably in tandem with the motions of his hand. It feels amazing.

Michael looks at Squip to see if he’s getting anything out of this yet, and Michael wonders why this isn’t in the books, because Squip is visibly feeding on him. Squip’s flower-petal lips are softly parted, his throat working in long swallows. He pauses when Michael does, licking his lips. “Problem?”

“You’re feeding? I don’t feel anything.”

“Would you prefer to feel it? Most people find the sensation disturbing.”

“I want to at least experience it. That’s why I’m out here. To experience things.” Michael rubs his fingers over the tip of his cock and nearly yelps at the electric jolt of pleasure that lights him up from head to toe. Squip’s mouth drops open again and he swallows a few times. “Let me feel it,” Michael urges. “I’ll tell you if I don’t like it.”

“Alright. Keep going.” Squip waits until Michael has settled into his rhythm again, and Michael is panting quietly at the sharp stabs of pleasure arcing between his sensitive points, all of that heat building and settling in his cock. It’s nearly unbearable, Michael can’t stand to keep touching himself, but at the same time, he can’t bear to stop.

The feel of Squip feeding from him is subtle at first, a gentle draw on his energy. When Michael doesn’t protest or recoil, the feeling gets stronger. He feels a tingle that starts in his toes, in his fingers, that prickles in his scalp. The sensation sweeps down his arms, down his neck, up his legs, and coalesces in his torso, most noticeably in the center of his chest. It feels like an insistent tug behind his breastbone, like bits and pieces at the edges of the core of him are being carefully spun away, a gauzy tug like a child pulling at cotton candy. It doesn’t feel bad, but it’s certainly odd, and odder still to feel the tug and watch Squip swallow what looks like nothing but air a second later.

“It’s weird,” Michael acknowledges, “but I don’t hate it. Get ready, man, I’m bringing it home.” He stops fucking around and lets himself sink into the sensation of his hand on his cock, his body tingling in waves with Squip’s feeding, pleasure thrumming through him with nearly painful intensity. “Holy fuck, you should bottle this shit, just condense your power into a liquid and--ohhhh _fuck_ \--I’d buy it, I’d use it all the time, this is _amazing_ \--shit!” Michael’s mind goes snow-static blank when climax finds him. He’s not even aware of the pain-pleasure cries spilling from his lips as he writhes, every inch of him pulsing with ecstasy as he comes and comes and _comes_ , and he knows Squip is driving him higher, stretching his climax longer, Michael can feel Squip’s power moving through him.

“Enough,” Michael begs raggedly, tears in his eyes. “Please, no more.” The overwhelming pleasure ebbs away, and a soothing calm takes its place, gentling his frazzled nerves, wrapping him up in a warmth that feels like being hugged, being held, but coming from inside him.

“Thank you, Michael. I haven’t eaten that well in a very long time.”

It takes Michael a moment to find the strength of will to move enough to look at Squip, but when he does, he gasps. Squip’s eyes are _blazing_ with glowing blue, so bright it’s throwing shadows on his handsome face. His hair is moving gently, like there is a wind inside the room that only Squip can feel. He’s relaxing in the chair with the kind of satisfied laziness that prefaces a food coma, his hand resting on his stomach. “I’m going to stay here until I’m a bit less reactive,” he explains, gesturing at himself. “If the humans see me like this…”

“Yeah, I get it. You look like you’re about to catch a nap anyway.” Michael cleans himself up with a hastily drawn sigil in the air and a wave of his hand, his outfit instantly back in order, tucked and zipped and as clean as when he put it on. “I’m going to go find the cutest vampire in this place, and dance with them. Maybe one will try to enthrall me. I’ve always wanted to see how I’d hold up against that.”

“If they do, find security and let them know. I don’t allow that sort of thing. Too many humans get into trouble that way.” Squip covers his mouth, yawning softly. “You’re welcome to return, Michael. Should you get another opportunity to misbehave.”

“This is a one night only event, I’m afraid,” Michael says regretfully as he gets up and double checks his clothes. “I’m not even sure I’ll get away with it this time, but if I do, it would be foolish to risk it again. But thanks. I learned a lot.”

“Happy to help, witch. And thank you for the meal.” Squip watches him leave, getting up to take Michael’s place on the couch.

As Michael closes the door and goes down the hall toward the main area of the club, he almost wishes he could stay with Squip a while longer. But if Michael is going to cram years of fun into a single night, he’s got to get moving. He’s here to make memories, and that’s exactly what his experience with Squip is. Just a really fun, interesting memory, never to be repeated. As Michael catches the eye of a scantily clad vampire, he tells himself again that this is all he needs. One night of fun. Then he’ll be satisfied.

Why does that sound like a lie?

**Author's Note:**

> Let me know what you think about this AU!! Jeremy will be along soon, worry not. In the meantime, hit me up on tumblr where I take requests and am always happy to talk to ya'll! 
> 
> https://seluvian.tumblr.com/  
> 


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